


Fate Is a One-Way Street

by kalopsia (girltalk)



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Alternate Reality - Soulmates, Angst, Depression, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 21:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3397010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girltalk/pseuds/kalopsia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As far as Sungkyu knows, Woohyun is desperate for love and affection. That much is true. As far as Sungkyu knows, Woohyun will look for it anywhere. Woohyun can’t conceptualise how untrue that is.</p><p>(The seven of them put everything into Infinite, crawling on hands and feet to carve an endless figure eight, and Woohyun had upturned everything for the sake of an hopeless infatuation he doesn’t know how to forget.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fate Is a One-Way Street

**Author's Note:**

> **trigger warning:** nothing too strong, but evident depression.
> 
> i started this september of last year, if that says anything about my state of mind when i finally finished. huge thank you to concordances@lj for beta-ing and helping salvage this mess, my_life_would_suck_without_you.mp3
> 
> also posted on lj (with more confidence in regards to formatting) [here!](http://kalopsia.livejournal.com/8672.html)

Woohyun would have liked to say that Infinite went out slowly and inevitably -- suffocating but freeing all at once -- but no. It went out like the worst kind of disaster. Too bright, too noisy, too much, too familiar on Woohyun’s tongue.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sungkyu calls Woohyun a NEET and tells him to get a job, a hobby, or a girlfriend. Woohyun has the same answers every time: “I have a job”, “my job is my hobby” and “No”.  
  
In actuality, it’s true, Woohyun has neither a job nor a hobby. He’s still introduced as a singer in the rare throwback articles published on a slow day, or when he occasionally drops in on Sungyeol’s Starry Night to co-RJ. But Woohyun hasn’t sang in ages -- at least not commercially -- and the only reason he’s avoided completely freeloading off Sungkyu is because of the large amount of compensation money he received as damages. Sungkyu sometimes brings him to his recordings, as some sort of incentive to maybe give the good old vocal chords another go. Woohyun spends all of Sungkyu’s sessions straining a smile at the producers, and watching Sungkyu through the glass of the recording booth.  
  
Netizens hate Woohyun. He’s pretty sure if he ever released any solo material, they’d find a way to have it rank -145th on the charts or something anyway.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


> 1\. [+15,018, -92] Honestly, I always felt like Infinite became too cocky after they gained popularity, but because it was all low-key stuff and they have so many fans no one cared. They’re dead for sure now. I’m not sure how anyone can shield him.
> 
> 2\. [+9,849, -73] It’s worrisome because their fans are all dumb teen girls who’ll look at Oppa and think his shameless behaviour was okay. It’s true that she shouldn’t have released it, but why would he even take part in it in the first place? He honestly has no morals whatsoever.
> 
> 3\. [+8,232, -83] My entire family was honestly appalled when they heard the news this morning. Infinite is dead, thank you Nam Woohyun. Fucking trash doesn’t deserve his mark.
> 
> 4\. [+7,568, -50] If I was his band member I’d be so pissed… There’s absolutely no way Infinite can recover from something like this. Honestly, the only reason idol groups are remotely popular are because of their annoying fans. and Infinite’s fancafe numbers are dropping like flies.
> 
> 5\. [+746, -19] He was marked… I’m honestly at a loss for words. His parents have probably fainted from shame.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Thankfully, Sungkyu doesn’t seem suspicious, or at least not overtly so. In fact, he seems to accept Woohyun’s reluctance to get the fuck out of his life as a test of altruism from God. “How long can you harbour the over-dependent mess who fucked over your career?”. Woohyun hopes he never finds out the answer.  
  
To give Woohyun the tiny, miniscule amount of credit he maybe deserves, it’s not like he showed up on Sungkyu’s doorstep with nowhere to go. When the seven of them separated, it came naturally. As easy as taking the next step down. There wasn’t really much point in cohabiting the same space when everything was slowly going toxic, and you were just sleeping amongst the ruins of what used to be a home.  
  
They probably figured Woohyun simply missed the memo. When really, he purposefully stuck it at the back of his mind and every time someone else packed their bags there was another loud knock and voice yelling “time’s up.”  
  
So that was that. Woohyun stayed. He stayed until Sungkyu threw a newspaper at his head, an advertisement for a two bedroom apartment seven kilometres from the centre of Seoul circled in red.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sungkyu sets Woohyun’s breakfast down a bit differently that morning. Woohyun looks up. “What?” he asks.  
  
Sungkyu doesn’t say anything, just pulls out a seat opposite him and starts pouring himself a glass of orange juice. Woohyun eyes him warily. Nowadays, Sungkyu is a lot more attentive and coordinated in the morning, compared to Woohyun who would only coax himself out of bed to get Sungkyu’s guard down until he left the house and Woohyun could burrow under the blankets again. This morning though, Sungkyu is positively perky, something neither of them ever managed to achieve despite, or maybe because of, six years spent running on an average of four hours of sleep.  
  
“What?” Woohyun asks again. The upward quirk of Sungkyu’s lips scream at him, distracting and shattering. He nudges Sungkyu’s socked toe under the table with his own bare ones. “You look happy. Like you finally looked in the mirror and saw someone else’s face.”  
  
Sungkyu snorts. “Don’t act smart, it doesn’t suit you.” He clears his throat and looks up, grinning, immensely proud of himself. Woohyun’s helpless but to smile back. “I, well. You know, the album’s going well. They trust my input a bit more now, you know, since last time.”  
  
“Yep,” Woohyun nods.  
  
“Well, they’re letting me expand a bit more in regards to who I want involved on my tracks. Especially seeing how it’s my last album before I’m going to the military.”  
  
Woohyun’s had a terrible poker face since his debut, and if anything time has made it worse. It doesn’t really matter in most cases -- Woohyun has no issues with wearing his heart on his sleeve. In most cases. He bends over in his chair, pretending to pull down the hems of his pants.  
  
Sungkyu takes a sip of his orange juice, rolling it around his mouth even though he knows Woohyun hates it. “You know how Jonghyun offered to do a duet to the song I wrote? His voice wasn’t really the kind I had in mind in the first place. So I talked to producers and they agreed to let me take the reigns on who I want as the guest vocalist, but it’s too much trouble to try and pull all the strings to get the exact voice I want on the track. Plus I figured, your voice is pretty close to what I was imagining anyway.”  
  
Woohyun freezes. Sungkyu’s easy stance falters; he licks his lips, swallows and doesn’t break eye contact with Woohyun. It’s been so long, but when Woohyun really looks, drowns out his heartbeat and the constant buzzing in his head, he can see the Sungkyu he met at eighteen. It’s all laid out in front of Woohyun, like old pieces of thread in a tapestry. Sungkyu still looks scared and unsure, propelled forward only by his need to keep going and never look back, and the six other boys in front of him who he cares about because they’re the ball to his chain and possibly more lost than he is.  
  
Sometimes the buzzing stops, the thumping fumbles, and Woohyun hates Sungkyu.  
  
He scrapes his chair back, getting up abruptly and throwing an old hoodie over his shirt.  
  
“Where are you going?” Sungkyu asks, trying transparently hard not to sound like a nagging parent.  
  
“I’m busy,” Woohyun replies curtly. He reaches for his set of keys on the hallway table, and ends up grabbing at dusty cherry wood.  
  
“Yours are on the kitchen counter.”  
  
“I knew that!” Woohyun snaps, heading back and grabbing his keys before running out the door.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Hoya is the first to get married, a year after they disband. His wife was the stylist for their One Great Step tour, although they hadn’t started actually dating until after the disbandment. Soori tells Woohyun the first time they knew they were meant for each other, was when Hoya got down on one knee.  
  
One of Hoya’s old crewmates is serving as his best man, Woohyun is one of the groomsmen. He sits vertically on the pew, head lolling on the armrest, as Hoya sits at the piano crossing and rewriting lines in his vows.  
  
“What do I even talk about,” Hoya whines, hands spasming over his head, resisting the urge to mess up his painstakingly gelled hair.  
  
“How did you know?” Woohyun asks, looking up at the multicoloured glass ceiling. The church is cold and big, and the sun comes through in reds and yellows, making the flowers out front look sickly.  
  
“Know what?” Hoya asks, scrawling over his speech.  
  
“That she meant it. That she was telling the truth.” Woohyun turns his head to look at him expectantly, body tensed up at the response. Hoya doesn’t even spare him a glance.  
  
“She’s my soulmate, Woohyun,” Hoya replies dismissively. “How wouldn’t you know?”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Woohyun sends a quick text message before stuffing his hands inside his pockets, cursing his decision not to grab a pair of gloves in his haste to leave Sungkyu’s company. Sungyeol looks up from his phone, eyes widening when he finds Woohyun pacing outside of the studio, and he scrambles up from his chair to let him in.  
  
“Woohyun hyung! What are you doing here?” Sungyeol asks. His lanky body takes up the entire door frame as he scrutinises Woohyun, eyes trailing up from his untied shoes to the collar of his pajamas peeking out conspicuously from his hoodie. Woohyun shuffles self-consciously and brings the zipper up higher until his neck hardly shows.  
  
“Can I sit in today’s session?” Woohyun asks, feeling a lot less remorseful than he should for imposing himself on Sungyeol’s radio show. The producer nearby makes a strangled noise of protest, hands cutting across his neck, but Sungyeol ignores him and claps Woohyun on the back.  
  
“Yeah sure, I’ll just revise the script a little. Shouldn’t be a big deal,” he assures, although the producers face says otherwise.  
  
Woohyun listens attentively as Sungyeol adjusts the script for him. Despite how toxic Woohyun’s relationship with the public has become, he’s still pretty in the know in regards to what works on broadcast and what topics shouldn’t be encroached. As such, Sungyeol doesn’t really need to do much. Just change a few lines and jot down general guidelines on how to turn monologues into banter. Woohyun always did better impromptu anyway.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
At some point or another, they’d all seen it, considering how personal space stopped being a noteworthy issue when you crammed seven young boys into one small house. Everyone got over it after the first two minutes or so. It was uncommon, but not rare. Plus Hoya’s mark looked a lot more impressive -- it was shaped like a wing and spanned his hip to the middle of his thigh.  
  
Hoya and Woohyun never really talked about it either. There was someone out there whose existence they lived for -- which was the case for a lot of people. They just knew it for sure and had a cheat code. Hoya hardly thought about it, whilst conversely, Woohyun couldn’t stop thinking about it but acted otherwise.  
  
Suitably, Sungkyu is the first one to see it.  
  
“Is that a mark?” he asks. It’s after practice and Woohyun is changing like he does every other day. Except today Sungkyu decides to pay extra attention to the oddities of Woohyun’s body.  
  
Honestly, without looking closely you could probably just write it off as a large mole. It’s relatively small, about half the size of a bottle cap, and to Woohyun’s great embarrassment but simultaneous pride, shaped distinctly like a star. Woohyun’s parents actually  _did_  think it was a mole when they first saw it, until they realised there was no bump and it was written in his skin like ink.  
  
“Yeah. What an honour, right?” Woohyun deadpans.  
  
Sungkyu reaches out slowly, silently asking Woohyun for permission to touch it. Woohyun pulls Sungkyu’s hand forward and drags his fingers over his chest towards the star directly over his heart.  
  
“Namstar,” Sungkyu grins. “I didn’t think you were the type to have a mark.” He traces the outline of it with his index fingers before dropping his arm.  
  
Woohyun raises an eyebrow. “There’s a type?”  
  
“Well no, but you just don’t seem like the type.”  
  
“That makes zero sense.”  
  
“This isn’t going to be detrimental to our band though, is it?” Sungkyu asks abruptly.  
  
Woohyun frowns. “What do you mean?”  
  
Sungkyu waves his arm towards Woohyun’s chest, like that’s meant to explain anything. Woohyun purses his lips at him and Sungkyu huffs, exasperated. “I mean, what if you meet  _the one_  while we’re still active.”  
  
“That’s not going to happen” Woohyun replies, maybe too assuredly. He pulls a t-shirt over his head. “Or I’ll date in secret, or not at all.” He amends.  
  
“Isn’t it meant to feel like, you can’t resist it? You’ll drop dead if you deny yourself?”  
  
“Maybe if you’re watching a drama,” Woohyun mutters bitterly, trying to think of a way to change the topic. “I don’t know what it feels like. No one does.”  
  
Sungkyu furrows his eyebrows. “Then how do you know when you feel it?”  
  
“You just do.”  
  
“Well, okay. Can you promise me though, as my right hand man, that this won’t get in the way of our future.” Sungkyu looks at him determinedly as he holds his pinky out, and Woohyun wants to laugh at his face because he looks like a five year old.  
  
“I promise,” Woohyun says in his best imitation of a little girl. Sungkyu rolls his eyes and wiggles his pinky until Woohyun gets the hint and hooks it with his own.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“Wendy-ssi, I didn’t really want to bring this up but...” Sungyeol trails off.  
  
It’s in the script, Sungyeol had every intention of bringing it up.  
  
“All of us can see the monitor screen. We asked your fans for questions, but there only seems to be really one thing they’re curious about.” Woohyun laughs, scrolling through the twitter mentions. Wendy is a lot calmer than any other idol would have been in her place two years ago. Woohyun is part of the reason for that. There’s less stigma with fans in regards to idols dating now. The coming clean process isn’t completely free of negativity, there’s still the judgement, and the general feelings of betrayal, but it’s mostly mellowed out. Considering there’s a lot worse than could happen.  
  
“Honestly, I always thought my first love would be my career. I never really wanted to date.” Wendy says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But, I guess my soul had a say otherwise. I’m genuinely sorry to all my fans who were hurt, but I can’t really say I regret it.”  
  
Sungyeol nods. “I’m sure most of them would be understanding. I mean, it’s your soulmate, it’s not casual dating or something you can just turn your back on.”  
  
Joy claps in agreement from next to Wendy. “Right? Plus, how often does it happen these days? It’s like a low grade miracle.”  
  
“Completely, it’d be disrespectful to ignore it.”  
  
Woohyun is the hastily added co-DJ, so he tries not to tune out by accident. “I don’t think I’ve seen the station’s twitter feed so active since SNSD came on,” he says. They’re getting at least twenty tweets every thirty seconds, it’s becoming near impossible to keep up.  
  
Sungyeol leans in close to Woohyun, looking at the monitor for himself and letting out a whistle. “Your fans want to know, Wendy, how did the two of you meet?”  
  
Wendy looks contemplative for a second, before grinning. “It’s such a boring story. He’s my family’s accountant, so I saw him a fair bit whenever I went home to visit my parents.”  
  
Sungyeol ‘aahs’ in interest and flips to the next page in the script.  
  
“What triggered it?” Woohyun asks.  
  
Sungyeol kicks him under the table, and the PD bangs his head against the wall. Joy’s face closes off, and Woohyun thanks Confucius for his sunbae semi-immunity or else he’s sure he’d be in for the verbal ass-kicking of his life.  
  
Wendy actually looks like she’s considering the question. Woohyun isn’t sure if it’s a cultural difference or not -- but he’s heard in general that Westerners are a lot more lax in regards to Soulmate stuff. He remembers watching this reality show with Sungkyu during their One Great Step US stop called Soul Snatcher, where 12 marked men and 12 marked women would date in rotation and the first one to break their bond won. Woohyun had watched it enraptured, but Sungkyu had turned off the TV, disgusted by the concept.  
  
“It’s hard to explain. I knew it from his touch, he knew it from my voice. When it’s your soulmate you just know.” Wendy smiles at him and Woohyun forces a smile back.  
  
Sungyeol has been stabbing Woohyun’s thigh all this time, and if it wasn’t viewable radio, he’d probably be strangling him right about now. “You’re very lucky, Wendy-ssi. It’s time to play the next song. This one was chosen by Woohyun-ssi, and it’s a bit old. I present to you, unapologetically, “Last Romeo” by Infinite.”  
  
The studio laughs and Woohyun doesn’t have to try very hard to look sheepish. When the song starts playing Sungyeol pulls him in by his jacket and whispers roughly into his ear.  
  
“Are you crazy? Do you have a death wish? If you do, tell me now, I could kill you a lot faster and a lot less painfully.”  
  
It’s a pretty sad day when even Sungyeol is berating you on your lack of a brain-to-mouth filter. Woohyun can recognise when he’s messed up. He elbows Sungyeol away and rubs his ear.  
  
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I just read it on the monitor and blurted it out.” If Sungyeol picks up on his lie he doesn’t say anything, instead dragging his hand over his face. “I don’t think she even minded.” He can see the PD approaching Wendy to do some damage control, maybe to coerce her to tweet a selca with Woohyun so he looks less like an intrusive tool.  
  
“I could have turned you away and sent you back to whatever war with Sungkyu you managed to walk out on unscathed.” Sungyeol retorts. “You need better coping mechanisms. I’ve been reading this book, okay no, Myungsoo’s been reading this book about how being away from the public eye for too long can be damaging if you’re already used to-- hyung, are you even listening to me?”  
  
Woohyun holds a finger up. “Shh, my favourite part of the song is coming.”  
  
Sungyeol wrinkles his nose. “The chorus?” he drawls.  
  
“ _Shine on my path, whether I want it or not, the decision has been made_ ,” Woohyun sings obnoxiously enough that Sungyeol knows to drop it.  
  
Sungyeol pulls his beanie over his eyes. “This is so demeaning, you’re acting like me. I’m so embarassed for you.”  
  
“ _I can’t see anything else but you._ ”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sungkyu is, to no one’s surprise, cautious and borderline paranoid. They never meet inside Seoul, always take different cars, and Sungjong or Sungyeol are always the ones to pick up food for them. The amount of time consumed in preparation for a forty-five minute date in a parking garage is ludicrous, but they’ve learnt from past hiccups, and Sungkyu is militant in making sure it never happens again.  
  
Woohyun’s met her maybe three times after debut and before disbandment. The first time is ironic, considering he’s the one to introduce them. Sungkyu has always been relatively apathetic or disinterested in Woohyun’s friends outside of Infinite. Woohyun gets it. Sungkyu can’t tolerate Woohyun at all on a bad day, and Woohyun clicks best with people he sees himself in. So he practically  _preens_  when the extremely close noona he had in high school and Sungkyu hit it off.  
  
The second time is when Woohyun goes back to Sungkyu’s room to fetch a sweater he’d left there the day before. Sungkyu’s Skype window is open and Sarang noona waves and calls him over when he comes into the frame. They make small talk for fifteen minutes, mentioning how hilarious it is that she’s dating his leader when Woohyun had the worst crush on her in high school. If that’s funny, then Woohyun is pretty sure the full story is comedy gold. Sungkyu comes back from the bathroom, apologises for taking so long, and pretty much kicks Woohyun out of his room.  
  
“I’m going!” Woohyun snaps. Sungkyu turns around, giving him an odd look before shaking his head and returning to the Skype window.  
  
“Is he okay,” Sarang asks, “he seems kind of... off.”  
  
Woohyun can still hear Sungkyu when he slumps down on the other side of the door. “I don’t know, he just gets overly emotional for no reason sometimes.”  
  
The third time is one long nightmare. It’s the day after Sungyeol has a run in with a sasaeng fan in the elevator, and Sungkyu is torn between self-preservation and need. In the end he has Woohyun accompany him right before they leave for tour.  
  
Everyone says it, idols are basically animals bred for bigger, richer, and more priviliged people to benefit from. Woohyun doesn’t feel it more than when he’s sitting on the hood of their car, earphones plugged in, eyes screwed shut, while Sungkyu says goodbye in ways Woohyun’s only witnessed in his dreams and doesn’t even want to think about now.  
  
Sarang can’t look at him when she goes back to her car, adjusting her skirt. Sungkyu pulls on his sweater and asks Woohyun if everything’s in place. Woohyun wants to shake his head, because nothing is in place at all and he feels like he’s made up of one hundred pieces and ninety nine of them are missing.  
  
He nods and the ride back to the dorm is silent.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


> _Woollim Entertainment released a statement earlier today. “Woohyun is extremely distressed right now and is repenting. Unfortunately, during touring and constant promotions, he fell into a lapse of judgement. He is reflecting on his wrongdoing and will return to the public with a humble heart.”_  
> 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sungkyu sits down next to him. They’ve finally moved into the apartment; boxes emptied, clothes folded and packed away into respective drawers, towels hanging next to each other in the bathroom. Sungkyu nudges Woohyun’s shoulder with his own.  
  
“What?” Woohyun asks, resting his head against the wall. He’s still tired, even though he’d done no real heavy lifting.  
  
Sungkyu hesitates, biting his lip before pushing forth. “If I ask you something, can you answer me honestly?”  
  
Woohyun shrugs, he doesn’t really know himself. “I don’t know. Try it.”  
  
“Was it.” Sungkyu pauses. His hand finds Woohyun’s own and he lifts them up, fitting their fingers together and tucking their joined hands into his jacket, right over his chest. “Did it have something to do with this?”  
  
Woohyun curls his fingers a little, nails scratching against the cotton of Sungkyu’s shirt.  
  
As far as Sungkyu knows, Woohyun is desperate for love and affection. That much is true. As far as Sungkyu knows, Woohyun will look for it anywhere. Woohyun can’t conceptualise how untrue that is.  
  
“It doesn’t matter all that much anyway. Whoever it is, I’m sure they’re not wallowing over their loss, which is the bigger one, so why should you?” Sungkyu makes a face, and Woohyun snorts. There goes Sungkyu’s sentimentality quota for the year or so.  
  
“Sort of.” Woohyun concedes. Sungkyu waits for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, stands up and dusts off his pants even though the floor was steam cleaned three hours before they arrived.  
  
“Thank God I don’t have one. Alright, well, hurry up.” Sungkyu orders. “We still need to split the chores, and fucking hell, I always thought the one good thing to come out of this was finally getting my own bathroom. We need to sort that shit out too.”  
  
“I get it first,” Woohyun says, and when Sungkyu’s about to open his mouth to protest, adds, “you take too long to shower. It’s annoying.”  
  
“What? Where’s your evidence? I’ve timed you. You took twice as long as everyone else doing your makeup.”  
  
Woohyun hums. “That’s not going to be a problem anymore.”  
  
“You don’t know that,” Sungkyu mumbles weakly.  
  
“I promise that I do.”  
  
Sungkyu sighs, exasperated. Woohyun can’t bring himself to feel guilty. Moving in together was Sungkyu’s idea, after all. If anything, he feels unjustifiably good about it.  
  
“You know what,” Sungkyu leans downwards and holds out his pinky. Woohyun stares at it distrustfully. “Promise me that you’ll make better promises.”  
  
That’s the last thing Woohyun can promise, but he links his pinky with Sungkyu’s anyway.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Woohyun knows Sungkyu’s schedule by heart by now, but only because Sungkyu pretty much forced him to memorise it during one particularly slow weekend. He takes a taxi to Hongdae, and maybe it’s life’s attempt to help this terrible day get a bit better, because the taxi driver doesn’t recognise him and drops him off on the street opposite Sungkyu’s guerilla concert without a word.  
  
The audience is large enough that Woohyun’s not sure why Sungkyu is even performing guerilla concerts anymore. He reaches the edge of the crowd, and with his sunglasses on, can barely make out Sungkyu at the front of the stage. He could probably go around back, most of Sungkyu’s managers and security guards are told beforehand to let Woohyun through, but he hasn’t seen Sungkyu perform live in ages.  
  
Woohyun pushes through the crowd a bit more, testing how far he can go. He accidentally treads on a woman’s shoes and she turns on him with a scowl. He’s about to murmur an apology when she pauses.  
  
Woohyun’s mouth dries up. Despite distancing his musical endeavours from Infinite fairly well, a considerable amount of Sungkyu’s fans are former Inspirits. If it was just a case of running into over-excited fangirls, Woohyun wouldn’t really mind. That hasn’t been the case in a while though, and he prefers the eardrum ripping shrieks over harsh whispers any day.  
  
Woohyun’s prepared to run, uncaring to whoever he knocks over, when the woman speaks.  
  
“Why are you wearing sunglasses in the evening? It’s so tacky.” She looks like she wants to spit on his glasses, and Woohyun is insurmountably thankful.  
  
“Wow! I didn’t expect to see such a crowd today. Thank you all for your support, I love you!” Sungkyu screams, blowing a heart to the crowd and subsequently cringing. Woohyun snorts.  
  
“I feel like it was only last year that I released my first solo album and everyone thought it was a complete failure.” Woohyun grimaces and the crowd protests. Sungkyu simply laughs. “It’s okay, I’ve grown a lot since then, and I was, and still am, really proud of my first album when it came out. They were the kind of songs I really wanted to do back then, and it was the first time I got to actually show myself through my music, something that I hold really important to me now. So, I wanted to end this concert on a very ‘me’ note. This song isn’t my favourite, and I haven’t sung it in a while, but at this time, right now, it means a lot to me. I apologise if I’m rusty, but this is ‘Only Tears’.”  
  
The crowd screams, and the opening piano line starts. The organisers were very obviously unprepared for the size of the attendance, because the sound doesn’t reach the back properly, and Sungkyu’s voice is almost lost in the cheers. Ultimately it doesn’t matter, Woohyun could pick out Sungkyu’s voice anywhere, but his years as an idol performing in less than ideal venues leaves him unimpressed.  
  
_”I love you. I’m sorry.”_  
  
People behind him push forward insistently, and Woohyun stumbles, only just catching himself on the shoulder of the girl in front of him. Sungkyu sounds louder now. It’s isolating. Not deafening. But like Woohyun is submerged in water and can’t hear anything but Sungkyu’s voice rushing around him, can’t breathe, can’t think.  
  
Woohyun isn’t sure exactly what happens, but he thinks he bumps into someone, and then he’s running. Feet pounding on grass, then bitumen. For a while, nothing is processing, but when he comes to he’s sitting on the floor of some alleyway. Face sticky and throat burning. Woohyun takes a few deep breaths and instantly regrets it when the smell of sour milk and rotten eggs hit him like a truck. He buries his head down into his arms again, breathing through the material of his hoodie to try and filter out the stink.  
  
A hand grabs his shoulder and he jolts.  
  
Dongwoo looks down at him with a smile that’s halfway between pity and amusement. Woohyun has to blink a few times, and then smiles weakly when Dongwoo wraps his hands carefully around Woohyun’s arms and lifts him up gently.  
  
“You okay there?” Dongwoo asks, dusting off Woohyun’s jeans.  
  
Woohyun simply nods begrudgingly, feeling infantilised. He clears his throat. “What are you-” His mouth clicks shut when he sees Sungkyu standing behind Dongwoo, leaning against the opposite wall, face mask hiding everything but his eyes that were looking at Woohyun with mild disappointment.  
  
“I saw you bolt,” Dongwoo explains. “Are you okay? Did someone say-”  
  
Woohyun shakes his head. “No, it was nothing. I just felt a bit suffocated.” He unzips his hoodie as if to make a point, and finally locks eyes with Sungkyu. “What happened to your concert?”  
  
Sungkyu raises an eyebrow. “It ended twenty minutes ago.” Woohyun feels a strong blush broil itself onto his skin. Exactly how long had he been out for? As if reading his mind, Sungkyu approaches Woohyun and slings an arm over his shoulder, and drapes the other one around Dongwoo. “Dongwoo found you ten minutes ago. We were just waiting for you to calm down.”  
  
The three of them walk out of the alley, towards the street where Sungkyu’s managers car was parked on the side.  
  
“You should come over tonight, if you don’t have to get up early tomorrow,” Sungkyu tells Dongwoo. His left arm is still slung over Woohyun’s shoulder, who despite only being of slightly smaller stature, sinks into the touch like a child.  
  
Dongwoo nods. “Sure.”  
  
They climb into the car. Sungkyu hesitates before taking the front seat, and Woohyun slips into the back with Dongwoo. It’s silent for a few minutes, Sungkyu staring out the window contemplatively, while Dongwoo and Woohyun play a game of footsie at the back. Dongwoo is the one to speak first, kicking Woohyun’s feet to the side and making a short aborted noise.  
  
“What?” Woohyun asks.  
  
“Interesting broadcast today,” Dongwoo starts, and is instantly cut off by Woohyun’s pained groan. Sungkyu coughs from the front and Woohyun can’t tell what it’s meant to convey.  
  
“What’s the damage?” Woohyun asks, flinching.  
  
“Not that bad. I mean, okay, they’re not  _nice_ , but it wasn’t front page news or anything, and no one’s like surprised.” Dongwoo amends at Woohyun’s dubious look.  
  
“It could have been a lot worse," Woohyun defends. "If it was anyone else’s radio show it would’ve been a lot worse.”  
  
Sungkyu snorts. “I’ll be sure to thank Sungyeol for setting the standards so low.”  
  
“Are you mad at me?”  
  
Sungkyu blinks at him, Woohyun can feel his stomach curling into itself in the seconds where Sungkyu doesn’t speak. “No,” Sungkyu says slowly, “not for that at least.”  
  
When they arrive back at the apartment, Woohyun storms into the kitchen without looking at Sungkyu, and makes a pot of ramen while Sungkyu and Dongwoo chat in the living room. It might be a bit narcissistic to think the way he does, but he just  _knows_  they’re talking about him. Feels it like pins pricking into his skin. The noodles is still a little too hard when he finally takes it off the stove, but neither Dongwoo or Sungkyu say anything about it when they take their first bite. Next time Woohyun’s going to put red pepper into it.  
  
Having Dongwoo around is nice. Woohyun can admit this to himself. He makes conversation easy, and it feels like five years ago, when the seven of them would crowd together in one hotel room and stay up talking and eating until Sungkyu would eventually grab Sungyeol by the collar to throw him out. Woohyun allows himself to indulge in his nostalgia while Dongwoo is talking. Until Sungkyu laughs, and then Woohyun feels like he’s choking.  
  
The table rattles when he stands up, and Sungkyu swears before leveling him with a steely glare. “Hey, be careful.”  
  
“I’m sleepy,” Woohyun says, “I’m going to bed.” He grabs his bowl, throws it into the sink, and keeps his eyes averted when he says goodbye to Dongwoo.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Very rarely does Woohyun manage to catch more than three hours of sleep. Everyone else -- even Sungyeol, who still trips over his own feet during dance practice -- has managed to adapt to it. Unfortunately, Woohyun’s biological clock is apparently broken, and it only manages to strike right around once a month. This morning isn’t one of those once in a blue moon moments though, and so when Sungkyu’s sharp voice starts ringing in his ears, Woohyun wishes Sungkyu’s face had a snooze button he could punch.  
  
He and Sungkyu don’t get along. This was a fact established firmly on Woohyun’s second day at the company, when they’d ended up getting into a fight about the tone of voice Woohyun used when asking for a bathroom break. For the most part they manage to exist with a somewhat fraught cordiality concealing the mutual disdain simmering underneath. Sometimes though, Sungkyu does things like make Woohyun clean up the practice room by himself at three am, resulting in Woohyun getting two hours less sleep than everybody else. So sometimes, Woohyun isn’t in the mood to put up much of a front.  
  
“Yah, Nam Woohyun,” Sungkyu nags, pushing at Woohyun’s back. His pointed knuckles dig into Woohyun’s shoulder blade, and Woohyun bites his tongue and screws his eyes shut tighter. “Get up would you,” Sungkyu says. He unceremoniously pulls the blanket off Woohyun and starts slapping his arms.  
  
Woohyun seriously underestimated just how badly he slept last night, because he feels like he has the worst hangover in the world. Sungkyu’s voice is amplified, and it’s at least one hundred times sharper, pushing against his brain and making his forehead throb. “Shut up,” Woohyun groans, rolling himself away from Sungkyu’s line of attack.  
  
“Woohyun, get up!” Sungkyu tries again, grabbing Woohyun’s arm and dragging him back across the mattress. “Contrary to your beliefs, the world doesn’t revolve around you, and time isn’t going to stop while you lounge around.”  
  
Woohyun’s head is  _pounding_. Filled with Sungkyu’s voice accompanied by the constant blaring of thermal noise, bouncing around his skull in a never ending echo. The sound is vibrating through his bones, his blood, and Woohyun feels like he’s about to explode.  
  
“Seriously,  _get up_.”  
  
The kick to his ribs isn’t really that hard, but it’s like Sungkyu just flicked the first domino in a chain. Woohyun’s body goes momentarily quiet for a second. Then there’s a searing pain on his chest, and it’s like someone has his heart between their hands and is wringing the fucking life out of it. There’s at least a million emotions of different potency whirring around inside of Woohyun. He wants to sigh, whistle, cry, laugh, scream, sing -- and it all manifests itself into a large cloud of hopelessness and anger that makes him want to rip his heart right out of his chest. Because Woohyun’s life is just one long, elaborate, fucking  _joke_. So he does the next best thing and lifts himself off the bed so he can grab Sungkyu’s shoulders and  _shove_.  
  
Sungkyu is completely livid, this much is blatantly obvious to Woohyun even as his world tilts on it’s axis and he registers that he’s staring down at his supposed soulmate. His soulmate who probably wants to impale Woohyun’s head on a pike and make that their debut album cover. Thank God Hoya walks in at that very moment, because Woohyun has no idea what he was about to do next, except that it’d definitely have been something incredibly stupid.  
  
“What’s going on?” Hoya asks. He looks at Woohyun kneeling on the bed, and Sungkyu lying on the floor, and furrows his eyebrows. “Everything okay? Woohyun finally carry out the mutiny we were all planning?”  
  
Woohyun lets out a hollow laugh and collapses back on the bed, rubbing his hands over his face and cackling. Sungkyu shoots him a look of revulsion as Hoya helps him up.  
  
“Come on,” Sungkyu says, patting Hoya’s back. “Woohyun’s not in the band anymore. Let’s go.”  
  
Hoya opens his mouth, and looks over to Woohyun sprawled out on the mattress. “But--”  
  
“ _Come on_.” Sungkyu urges, pushing Hoya out the door. “We’re already late as it is thanks to nobody.”  
  
Woohyun snorts and turns so his back is facing them. “Bye,” he says.  
  
“Fuck off,” Sungkyu snaps. “I don’t want to see a hint of your fucking face when we’re back.”

 

 

 

Woohyun is on the edge of sleep when he feels the bed dip underneath him, a new warmth radiating against his skin. He mumbles something incomprehensible and an arm reaches out to push him further to the edge of the bed.  
  
“My bed,” Woohyun grumbles after he manages to string some words together. “Dongwoo gone?”  
  
“It’s cold outside and my heating’s busted,” Sungkyu replies, crawling in beside him. Woohyun sluggishly moves his limbs when Sungkyu tugs on his blanket, letting him steal most of it and being too drowsy to protest. “Dongwoo left half an hour ago, and why is your blanket so thin? It’s winter, can’t you go buy a new one?”  
  
Woohyun uses the last few remnants of his energy to let out an exaggerated snore. Sungkyu snorts and kicks the back of Woohyun’s legs before pulling the blanket up over himself. It takes a few minutes for Sungkyu to stop fidgeting and moving around, and Woohyun doesn’t know he’s waiting for it until Sungkyu’s breathing eventually evens out and Woohyun lets himself move a bit closer. Their elbows brush against each other lightly and the the taut elastic around Woohyun’s awareness snaps, letting it crumble away until all Woohyun can register is the pressure of fatigue on his body.  
  
Sungkyu stiffens from next to him, and Woohyun growls in annoyance. “What?” he slurs out.  
  
He doesn’t turn to look at Sungkyu, but the perplexed  _’Nothing’_  is the last thing he hears before he falls asleep again.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Unlike Woohyun when Sungkyu initially started dating, Sungkyu definitely notices when Woohyun stops coming back home at a reasonable time. Woohyun hasn’t roomed with Sungkyu for years, but the feeling of coming home to Sungkyu waiting for him -- for whatever reason -- feels so innate that he doesn’t flinch seeing Sungkyu sitting idly on his bed.  
  
Sungkyu looks up and Woohyun blinks sleep from his eyes, squinting to make sure that, yes, that is definitely Sungkyu lounging back on his pillow and looking at Woohyun with the same affection he’d give a cockroach he’d accidentally stepped on.  
  
“Do you know what time is it,” Sungkyu asks.  
  
Woohyun still feels a little delirious, so he ignores the question in favour of asking: “Why are you in my room?”  
  
“I’m in your room,” Sungkyu enunciates each word carefully, “because it’s four am and this is the eighth night you’ve decided to wander off without a manager.”  
  
Woohyun shrugs off his coat, throwing it haphazardly on the chair next to him. “So? It’s not like we aren’t allowed to date.”  
  
Sungkyu raises an eyebrow. “ _Dating?_  That’s what you want me to believe you’re doing?”  
  
Woohyun bristles. “Fine. What’s it to you though? It’s not like you’ve never done it. We all have needs or whatever.”  
  
Sungkyu gapes at him, moving so he’s sitting at the edge of the bed. “Your  _needs_  are now, all of a sudden, gaining precedence over our band?”  
  
“Not all of us were lucky enough to get a girlfriend and dumb enough to lose them,” Woohyun snips, taking off his watch and slowly placing it on the desk. It’s a low blow, and if Sungkyu were Sungyeol or even anyone else, he’d be hurt and walk out of the room and that’d be it. Instead, Sungkyu sneers and narrows his eyes.  
  
“That’s  _fucking rich_. Guess what Woohyun, not all of us were lucky enough to be born with a soul mark, and still be short sighted enough to go crawling into random beds and risk our entire career.”  
  
Woohyun needs something to do with his hands. He buries them into his pockets and grips the material tightly. “Who says being born marked was a good thing, huh?” he challenges.  
  
Sungkyu snorts. “Not you, obviously. You’re acting like you want to break it.”  
  
Woohyun freezes. Doesn’t dare breathe.  
  
Sungkyu takes a pause, concern and curiosity etching itself on his face over the initial anger. “Woohyun…” he says slowly. “Are you… are you trying to break your bond?”  
  
They don’t talk about it. Ever. For one, it isn’t something that really comes up in casual conversation between members. And two, Woohyun goes out of his way to make sure it’s never talked about. Abruptly changes the subject whenever it even vaguely veers into the same territory, makes some excuse to leave the room when someone’s about to broach the topic, and dismissively rebuffs anyone who tries to use it to create small talk. Sungkyu had figured out pretty early on that Woohyun didn’t like discussing it, but it’s only now that it looks like he might actually care about the reason why.  
  
Woohyun should know better. Should scoff at the mere idea of Sungkyu suggesting it. But his mouth is working on it’s own accord, and he looks down at his shoes as all the curtains around him start crumpling to the floor.  
  
“Why am I so lucky to be born with a mark anyway? What’s so fucking  _lucky_  about being given absolutely  _no choice_  in who I fall in love with? I’m not going to end up meeting them on the streets as a student and live happily ever after. What if they’re not bonded back to me? What if they’ve already broken theirs? They probably have. I mean, who would want to be bonded to the most over the top and annoying idol to ever be an idol?"  
  
Woohyun takes a shuddering inhale, gathering his courage - or maybe idiocy -- before taking the plunge.  
  
"Who would want someone who's so busy pretending to be someone else, that they probably aren’t even the same person destiny decided to burn onto their skin? Who would want someone who’s so lonely and desperate, he fucks anyone who looks even mildly interested? Who would want someone so irritatingly needy, not even his own leader can stand to be around him sometimes? Who in their right mind would ever want somebody like that? Who in their right mind would ever want me?”  
  
Woohyun’s exhale is broken. His throat burns when he swallows.  
  
“Woohyun, you’re shaking,” Sungkyu says softly.  
  
Woohyun opens his eyes. Unfurls the fists he doesn’t remember making, and brings them out front of him. He looks at his quivering hands -- both with a matching set of crescent indents -- and then looks at Sungkyu. It  _hurts_.  
  
He’d thought that for the last few weeks he was making some sort of misguided progress. That he’d managed to smother the pain a little, giving him a taste of what his life would be like without it. But now Woohyun knows that’s not true. It’s been building, and the past few weeks have been just numb and unfeeling, and the ache and mortification that’s been repressed come back so forcefully, Woohyun wants to drop to his knees in front of Sungkyu and bury his face in his lap then and there.  
  
They’re both older now, mid to late twenties. Consolation isn’t as easy as a hug and puppy pile like it was back then. Sungkyu looks unsure when he stands up and puts both hands on Woohyun’s shoulders, squeezing them tightly.  
  
“You’re okay,” Sungkyu says. He doesn’t hug Woohyun. “You’ll be okay.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The next morning feels new. Woohyun wakes up lighter and without the overwhelming need to stay in bed that he usually struggles with. When he brushes his teeth, gets dressed, and pours himself a bowl of cereal, it’s almost reflexive, natural. Instead of like he’s wading through a thick swamp just so he can flop down and continue wasting away on the other side. It’s nothing revolutionary, Woohyun isn’t walking with a spring in his step anytime soon, but it’s enough that Sungkyu notices and sends him a hesitant smile over the table.  
  
“Someone finally woke up on the right side of bed,” he comments.  
  
“More like some dumb jerk decided to invade my space last night,” Woohyun grumbles, but it’s without malice. Sungkyu winks at him before looking down at his phone and reading the text messages he’d missed.  
  
“Is everything a go with the solo album?” Woohyun asks, eyes focused on his breakfast.  
  
Sungkyu’s head snaps up. “ _Sorry?_  Do you actually care?”  
  
Woohyun sticks his tongue out. “No, I don’t. I’m just humouring you.”  
  
Sungkyu picks up a flake of dry cereal off the table and flicks it in Woohyun’s direction. “We’re almost done with the preparation. I have Jonghyun back on the duet track, and I’m going to start recording next week.”  
  
Woohyun hums. Then: “I think I want to try singing again.”  
  
Woohyun is still intently looking at his cereal, but he hears Sungkyu’s phone fall from his grip and clatter on the table. “ _What_?”  
  
Woohyun scratches the back of his neck, suddenly embarrassed. “Not like, on your album or anything. But, I don’t know. Something small. I want to give it a go again.”  
  
“Since when?” Sungkyu asks, astonished.  
  
Good question. Woohyun doesn’t know. Sometime in between pulling out his chair this morning, and Sungkyu sleepily walking into the fridge. In the past, when Sungkyu brought up the prospect of singing again, Woohyun would deflect it with a  _’it’s not the right time’_. It was mostly bullshit until now. But that’s what now feels like. It’s not often Woohyun is graced with a good day, especially not one as astoundingly clear as this one. Might as well make the most of it.  
  
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Woohyun half-lies.  
  
“This is-” Sungkyu starts, but he can’t seem to find the words. “This is great. This is awesome, yeah. I’ll get Jungyeop hyung to talk to you when I see him again. Where’s my notebook, actually. I have his new number scrawled down there.” Sungkyu moves to get up, looking around frantically and patting the places pockets would be on his shirt if it had any. Woohyun hooks his feet around Sungkyu’s leg underneath the table and tugs.  
  
“Sit down,” Woohyun whines, “it’s too early.”  
  
Sungkyu grins at him sheepishly but complies. “Sorry, I just. I’m really happy for you, Woohyun.” He smiles at him. It’s a smile Woohyun hasn’t seen directed towards him in years. It’s pride.  
  
Woohyun beams, and he knows how stupid he must look. “I didn’t even do anything,” he insists, ducking his head.  
  
Sungkyu grins, reaching over to ruffle Woohyun’s hair. “I really,  _really_ -” he falters for a moment, forehead creasing.  
  
“What?” Woohyun probes.  
  
Sungkyu shakes his head, but looks like he’s deliberating something before continuing. “I just, really  _really_  want you to be happy.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


> Woollim has released an official statement. “Unfortunately, due to the circumstances, as well as the members’ own individual goals, Infinite will not be renewing their contracts with Woollim to continue as a band. The sequence of events leading up to this was unfortunate, and we wish Infinite could have said goodbye beautifully. However, it seems as if the public won’t allow that, and so their last official activity as a group was officially Music Bank Tokyo held three months ago. Deepest apologies to all of Infinite’s fans who have supported them since debut. Please look after them carefully as they blossom into their own individual colours.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Even though he's seen Sungkyu in them often enough, actually being inside the recording booth after almost three years is a disorientating experience. The staff on the other side of the glass aren’t looking at him, busy going through the arrangement, but Woohyun feels like he’s in an interrogation room. He counts to ten, and then hums, holding two fingers up to his throat, trying to remember the vocal warm up exercises Sungkyu had gone through with him the day before.  
  
"Alright Woohyun," Yoon Sang’s voice comes through muffled but loud. "You ready to go?"  
  
Woohyun swallows down his nerves. Sungkyu had called in favours with every producer he’d ever worked with, and although most were hesitant to risk featuring Woohyun on any of their tracks, after getting Jungyeop hyung to back him up, Producer Yoon Sang had hesitantly agreed to take on Woohyun for a small project. It's just a simple OST track for a low-budget makjang drama on a cable channel no one watches (he and Sungkyu had tried, for formality's sake, but had given up after the love square quickly turned into some incestous-chaebol sibling power play). Still, Woohyun doesn't even think he was this nervous during Infinite's debut stage.  
  
"Yeah," he replies, giving them a thumbs up and toothy smile.  
  
The instrumental starts playing and Woohyun sings the first verse and chorus with relative ease, falling back into pattern, remembering how singing used to be like breathing to him. The song shifts to the bridge, and when Woohyun builds up for the high note, he goes flat.  
  
"Sorry," he says, waving. "Can I try it again?"  
  
Yoon Sang gives him a thumbs up and starts the song from the beginning. Once again, Woohyun goes through the motions, but this time his voice cracks on the falsetto during the chorus.  
  
Woohyun opens his mouth to apologise, but Yoon Sang cuts him off. "Again?"  
  
Woohyun thins his lips and nods mutely.  
  
They go through twelve retakes. Woohyun still can't get the high note right, or he manages to fumble before even reaching it. His throat is beginning to feel scratchy and prickly, and he isn't sure how much of it is due to singing out of his range.  
  
"Can I take a break?" he asks, playing with the lid of the water bottle a staff member had ushered into his hands after the fifth try.  
  
Yoon Sang looks up from where he’d been fiddling with the knobs on the mixing desk. "You know what," he says, "why don't you go home for the day, Woohyun? Just rest up and take care of your voice a little. You still have a great tone. If another OST comes up, I'll call you." The smile he directs Woohyun is meant to be reassuring and kind, but Woohyun feels the bottom of his stomach falling.  
  
"Okay," Woohyun agrees, slipping the headphones off and placing them on the table. He doesn't trust himself to say anymore, and bows towards the staff and mumbles a quick goodbye before making haste towards the door. He feels shaky, not sure if he can even stand up on two feet anymore.  
  
"It was nice working with you again, Woohyun!" Yoon Sang calls out. Woohyun ignores him, closing the door shut behind him, and managing to take ten steps before he collapses onto a nearby bench. He rests his head on his hands and holds his breath.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The worst disasters start off quietly. Of course, being an idol means that things are never  _really_  quiet for Woohyun. He’s always on the job, method acting, invariably ready to perform, whether it’s for a PD who hands him a script, or a random citizen who vaguely recognises him on the streets.  
  
Quiet for Woohyun is sitting in the van with his head resting against the tinted windows, absently watching peak hour traffic slug along. Quiet is taking the elevator up to the dorms and meeting no invasive fans in the lobby. Quiet is the insignificant seconds where he’s opening the door to their apartment, and his only concern is whether they have milk in the fridge.  
  
What breaks the quiet is the resounding stillness he’s met with when he walks into the room. Six members, three managers, and the CEO are huddled around one small laptop. The only noise is the voice that crackles through the phone Jungyeop hyung pulls away from his ear when he notices Woohyun standing in the doorway.  
  
Sungkyu speaks first, turning towards Jungyeop hyung and saying: “I’ll talk to him, okay?”  
  
Everyone looks hesitant, but Sungkyu is already walking determinedly towards Woohyun, wraps his fingers around his wrist, and Woohyun follows him instinctively as he pulls them both into the closest bedroom and shuts the door.  
  
Sungkyu and Woohyun haven’t been talking recently. It’s involuntarily intentional, a month of unoccupied seats between them, retracted words, pats on the back that never linger. For Woohyun it’s an exercise in restraint, trying to harden the muscle that’s his heart. Woohyun doesn’t know what Sungkyu’s deal is, and he’s afraid he’s about to find out when Sungkyu turns towards him, upset and defeated.  
  
Sungkyu pulls out his phone, looks like he’s in physical pain when he turns the screen towards Woohyun. “Just… tell me… is this you?”  
  
Woohyun can’t make out much from the preview. He squints and taps the screen. It starts off dark, the only noise some vague rustling, but then he can vaguely make out two bodies and it’s enough to make every muscle in his body tighten. He can’t remember the room, he can’t even remember who he was with, and he thought he’d been so careful.  
  
“I-” Woohyun croaks out. “How do they--”  
  
Sungkyu doesn’t answer him, but fast forwards the video to the middle, and even casted by shadows, it’s unmistakable. Sungkyu presses play, and the voices cut through his skin. Claw their way up from his stomach to the damned star shape mark on his chest, and pierce through the middle.  
  
_”You must be desperate? Who’d you get cursed with.”_  
  
_”No one. Just, please. Fuck. Do this for me, I’ll make you feel good.”_  
  
“Stop,” Woohyun says, shutting his eyes. “ _Stop it_.”  
  
“You’re upset,” Sungkyu observes. Woohyun can’t look at him and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “They need to talk to you, so come out in an hour even if you aren’t feeling better.” He says it like dealing with Woohyun is a job, something he does on autopilot while staring out the window, waiting for the day to be over.  
  
Woohyun can’t say anything back to him, just waits for Sungkyu to leave the room before screaming into his hands.  
  
Everybody on the other side of the door has seen it. Sungkyu’s seen it. It’s out there on the internet -- everyone’s seen it. They all know. Nam Woohyun is a worthless piece of trash. With no morals. No restraint. No value for love. The seven of them put everything into Infinite, crawling on hands and feet to carve an endless figure eight, and Woohyun had upturned everything for one hopeless fuck he can’t even remember. Done for the sake of an hopeless infatuation he doesn’t know how to forget.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sungkyu had told him to call once recording had finished so they could go out for meat together. Woohyun does no such thing, considers the offer -- and every other doting gesture Sungkyu had made towards him in the last two weeks -- effectively nullified.  
  
He catches a taxi back to their apartment. The taxi driver registers who Woohyun is and what he’s infamous for fifteen minutes into the drive. Opens his mouth to say something, and Woohyun digs out all the cash he has in his wallet and stuffs it into the drink holder before opening the door and walking the rest of the way home.  
  
The apartment is silent when Woohyun arrives, the half-eaten bowl of rice from this morning still on the kitchen counter, and the blue patterned tie Woohyun had talked Sungkyu out of wearing today lying on the floor. Woohyun picks it up, and is scowling at how ugly it is when the phone rings.  
  
No one ever calls the home phone anymore, and on any other day Woohyun would shamelessly ignore it. He’s about to do the same now, except he remembers that Sungkyu has a career, an album in the works, people who don’t see him as a consistent let-down, and it could actually be important.  
  
“Hello,” he answers.  
  
“Hello?” comes a soft female voice from the other end. “I’m sorry, is Sungkyu-ssi there?”  
  
“No,” Woohyun says. He narrows his eyes. “Who’s speaking?”  
  
“Oh, it’s Woo Yejin from…” she hesitates, “sorry, who am I speaking to?”  
  
Woohyun sniffs. “I’m his roommate,” he says, hopes it’s curt enough for her to get a hint.  
  
There’s rustling from the other end, and then Woo Yejin speaks again. “I’m sorry, I can’t talk to you. But if you just tell Sungkyu-ssi that I called-”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Woohyun interrupts, “it’s just that, I’m sure you’re aware of Sungkyu’s career. I don’t know if you’re a fan or actually--”  
  
“No, no!” Yejin protests. “He’s been seeing me recently. Just tell him my name--”  
  
Woohyun hangs up.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sungkyu comes home to complete darkness. All the lights off, the curtains drawn, and as evidence of Woohyun’s perfectionism, all the electronics unplugged so there’s not even the small red light next to the tv to greet him. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but things have been looking a little better recently, and he can’t say he’s unsurprised.  
  
He’s expecting to find Woohyun in his bed, doing the exaggerated breathing pattern that means he’s trying very hard to pretend to be asleep. So he’s a more than a little alarmed when walks past packed boxes lining the hallway, and finds Woohyun standing in the middle of the room with a crudely made quilt knapsack in his arms.  
  
“ _What in the world_  are you doing?” Sungkyu asks, gaping.  
  
Woohyun looks up, expression bare and muted. Except Woohyun is like a book with paragraphs Sungkyu can quote off by heart, and the despondence brewing underneath is as clear as day.  
  
“Packing,” Woohyun answers blankly, “I’m moving out.”  
  
Sungkyu closes his eyes and massages his temple. “I’m sure you thought this through really well,” he drawls, “but just wondering,  _where_ exactly do you plan to move out to.”  
  
Woohyun straightens his back defensively. “I’m still looking for an apartment, until then Sungyeol’s place. I called him today, he said it was fine.”  
  
“I’m sure that idiot did say that,” Sungkyu grumbles. “Why are you moving out, again? Did I miss a text message?”  
  
Woohyun’s stare is determined and unrelenting. “I’m getting out of your way. There’s no point in me living here anymore. I don’t even know why we’re living together in the first place.”  
  
Sungkyu blinks. “ _What?_ ”  
  
Woohyun hardens his jaw. “We’re both adults, okay. We need to move on with our lives.”  
  
Sungkyu is at a complete loss. It’s like he’s been exerting all this energy into building a bookshelf with scattered and mismatched parts and no instructions to go off. Then, in the last few weeks, the bits and pieces have started making sense and falling into place, and he can actually see the bigger picture he’s working towards. Right now feels like finding an extra bolt he’s never seen before when the bookshelf is already more than halfway finished.  
  
“Can we- can we talk about this, please?” Sungkyu implores, “like adults.”  
  
Woohyun looks like he’s about to refuse, but at the last minute changes his mind. “Fine. But we’re talking in the living room. It feels like you’re trapping me here,” he accuses. He strides past Sungkyu indignantly, his knapsack slapping against Sungkyu’s hip.  
  
Sungkyu snorts. “I’m  _trapping_  you,” he mocks. He’s about to follow Woohyun out, when the door slams unceremoniously in his face. Sungkyu is taken aback for about a second before shaking it off and reaching for the door knob. It doesn’t turn. Sungkyu rattles it in his grip and starts slamming the door with his shoulder, but it’s futile.  
  
“Woohyun!” Sungkyu yells, rapping his fists against the door. “Hey Woohyun, this isn’t a very adult thing to do.” He gets no answer, but he can hear Woohyun shifting things from the other side. “Woohyun when I break down this door, the only thing Sungyeol will be helping move is your fucking corpse.”  
  
Sungkyu’s phone is dead. He looks around the room, and some of Woohyun’s books and CDs are still on the shelf. Still, there’s nothing he registers as being of particular value, and he doesn’t really want to rely on Woohyun coming back to scavenge for leftover items to escape. Plus, that’s not really the point anyway.  
  
“Woohyun, come on. This is ridiculous, stop being stupid,” Sungkyu pleads. He sits down on the floor, back against the door, suddenly exhausted. “God, you’re such a pain to deal with.”  
  
The footsteps and constant shuffling of boxes stop, and Woohyun’s voice comes through the door matter-of-fact. “Well, that’s why I’m leaving. Put up with it a bit more.”  
  
Sungkyu finds it then. The two loose pieces of wood that need to be bolted together. Sungkyu never intended to broach the topic like this. He had a plan, one he had looked over by Dongwoo, so he knows at the very least it was a sensitive plan, a tactful one. Although that was probably never going to work. He and Woohyun didn’t get where they were by being sensitive and tactful.  
  
“Woohyun,” Sungkyu starts, wringing his fingers together. “Am I your soulmate?”  
  
There’s the sound of a box crashing onto the floor. Sungkyu lets out a shaky exhale.  
  
“Were you ever planning on telling me?”  
  
Silence, and then: “There was no point. There’s still no point.”  
  
Sungkyu didn’t realise how much he relied on Woohyun’s incapability to keep emotion off his face until now, because he can’t read the tone of his voice at all.  
  
“Why do you think that?” Sungkyu says at the same time Woohyun goes, “You don’t have a mark.”  
  
Sungkyu shakes his head, even though he knows Woohyun can’t see. “So? Did everyone you date have a mark? Do all soulmates end up finding each other?”  
  
“I wish I never found you,” Woohyun says. Sungkyu can’t help himself, he laughs. “I’m being serious.”  
  
“Well, you know, looking back on it maybe you would be better off. No idea where I’d be though,” Sungkyu ruminates.  
  
“You’d probably still have a career, for one.”  
  
There’s nothing but the sound of their mismatched breathing for a few minutes, and then Woohyuk speaks again.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he says. “You’ve probably guessed that I’m in love with you, right? That’s not your fault. But… I can’t stay. I told myself I was okay being your platonic life partner or whatever, but… I can’t do it. I’m ruining your life, hyung. You’re your own person, I’m not your mess to clean up. You’re dating someone now, and you might get married, and I’ll never have learnt how to cope with it. Or you might break up, and I’ll be happy for three seconds until you date someone else, and history will just be repeating itself over and over again. I just… We can’t do that to ourselves.”  
  
“I never even did the dishes when it was my turn back at the dorms!” Sungkyu marvels. “You think I’m living with you because I’m trying to clean up a mess? I can’t believe you’d overestimate me like-- wait, what?” Sungkyu furrows his eyebrows. “Did you say I’m dating someone now?”  
  
The huff Woohyun lets out is so petulant and  _Woohyun_ , Sungkyu almost cries. “Woo Yejin called,” he says bitterly.  
  
Stupid Woohyun. Stupid fucking Woohyun with his martyr complex, and his narcissism, and his compulsive need to be loved, and his inability to believe people can love him without pretences. Stupid Woohyun who talks bullshit so well, but can’t say anything that really matters, and jumps to conclusions, and doesn’t ever make things easy for Sungkyu. Stupid fucking Woohyun.  
  
“Woohyun,” Sungkyu says softly, “can you please open the door?”  
  
Sungkyu doesn’t count his luck but he shifts forward, and sure enough the door clicks open behind him. Sungkyu stays rooted to his spot on the floor, and from the corner of his eye he can see Woohyun sliding down against the adjacent.  
  
“Woo Yejin...” Sungkyu begins, “...is a psychologist.” He really wants to see Woohyun’s face at the reveal, but he doesn’t want to break the tentative truce between them. “She specialises in the effects of the soulmate bond on mental health.”  
  
“You think I’m crazy and want me locked up,” Woohyun summarises flatly.  
  
Still not looking at Woohyun’s face, Sungkyu reaches an arm out to slap Woohyun upside his head. He gains a good amount of self-satisfaction from the pained  _’Ow’_  Woohyun makes.  
  
“I  _told her_  you were depressed, and that I think you’re my soulmate, and I had no idea until recently.”  
  
“You’re  _my_  soulmate,” Woohyun interrupts, “don’t get it mixed up.”  
  
“For the love of-- would you stop fucking interrupting. I told her  _you_  were  _my_  soulmate, and asked if it was possible when I don’t have a mark. She said yes, and then I asked her if an unrequited soulbond could have adverse effects on someone’s mental health. She said yes, and  _then_  I got a voicemail from her today confirming that she’d be free to meet you next week.”  
  
When Woohyun doesn’t speak, Sungkyu continues. “I’m sorry, I should have told you. But every time I brought up you seeing someone in the past you always got so offended, so I took it into my own hands. I thought it’d be easier if it was someone we could both see together. I don’t want to fix you, or clean you, okay? I just want to make you happy.”  
  
He takes a deep breath and turns to face Woohyun now -- isn’t surprised to see Woohyun looking back at him with his infuriatingly good looking and heartbroken face.  
  
“How?” Woohyun asks. “How did you know? How’s that possible?”  
  
Sungkyu waves his hand; when Yejin had explained the technicalities of it he’d almost zoned out, only just catching the gist of it. “You’re such a dumb kid, and I’m such a dickhead, the Universe decided it wasn’t ready to drop the bomb on me until two weeks ago.”  
  
Woohyun deflates, like a child who’d just been scolded. “So it  _is_  my fault,” he concludes.  
  
Sungkyu groans, exasperated, and moves closer towards Woohyun so he can wrap a hand around the back of his neck. Woohyun’s skin is warm, and Sungkyu brushes a thumb against where he can feel his pulse thrumming.  
  
“No, I just needed some catching up to do,” Sungkyu says, gently tugging Woohyun’s hair. Woohyun makes a sound and looks up at him, and although Sungkyu has always been helpless and irrevocably fond, right now he knows that even though Woohyun was the one with the mark, there was never really any choice for him either.  
  
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Sungkyu reasons out loud. “I was in love with you long before I found out you were my soulmate.”  
  
He doesn’t know who moves first. Maybe him. Maybe Woohyun. Maybe the Earth shifts and sends them both colliding against each other at the same time. But when he kisses Woohyun, it’s destiny.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“I fucked up the recording,” Woohyun says when they’re lying in bed.  
  
It had taken an hour to unpack all the boxes, even with Sungkyu half-assing most of it and trying to stuff all of Woohyun’s clothes in one drawer when he thought no one was looking. Woohyun would have complained, did complain actually, but Sungkyu had sent him a look that very precisely conveyed  _’this is all your fault, I’m not doing more than I have to’_ , and Woohyun very graciously dropped it. Sungkyu made it up to him by letting Woohyun wrap himself around him on the bed like a koala.  
  
Which is where they are now. Woohyun’s legs tangled up with Sungkyu’s under the blanket, an arm over his stomach, and his head resting on Sungkyu’s chest where he can hear his heartbeat. Sungkyu makes an uninterested sound brings a hand up to run through Woohyun’s hair.  
  
“There’ll be other opportunities,” Sungkyu assures him, “you’ll get through it, but there’ll be a few bumps along the road. Things don’t always work out smoothly, Woohyun. Even when they should.”  
  
Woohyun sighs and rubs his face against Sungkyu’s shirt. “They all think I’m useless.”  
  
“No one thinks that. Not even you do, really.”  
  
Woohyun hums absently, watching his hand rise and drop with Sungkyu’s breathing. “Remember when I used to be a better singer than you?”  
  
Sungkyu barks out a laugh. “You’re delusional. That’s hilarious. Don’t worry Woohyun, just keep trying, and then you’ll be back at your best. Your best being comfortably below me.”  
  
“That wasn’t true even before you started smoking,” Woohyun points out, right as Sungkyu exclaims  _’I quit!’_. “It doesn’t matter, the damage is done.”  
  
“It was only for four months, and I was rightfully stressed thanks to  _someone_ ,” he says pointedly. Woohyun grins and presses a kiss against Sungkyu’s chest.  
  
“It’s alright,” Woohyun says, “somebody has to make all the bad decisions.”  
  
“Um… Between the two of us only one of us has a leaked sex tape, and it isn’t me.” Woohyun jolts upright and Sungkyu immediately wrestles him into a hug to pull him down again. “Sorry, sorry! Too soon, I got it.”  
  
Woohyun shakes his head, his fringe brushing against Sungkyu’s forehead from the new position. “No, it’s--”  
  
Sungkyu smacks a hand over Woohyun’s mouth. “We aren’t doing that right now,” he says, “save it for Woo Yejin so I can professionally wipe the floor with your incessant self-blame.”  
  
Woohyun licks Sungkyu’s hand and Sungkyu pulls back disgusted. “Fuck Woo Yejin,” Woohyun says. He buries his head in the crook of Sungkyu’s neck, and places a few kisses there just because he can, and Woo Yejin can’t.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
There’s a song in Sungkyu. He can’t tell you what it is, he can’t hum it if you asked him to. In all honesty, a song probably isn’t the best way to describe it. It’s not like when he had ‘What’s Your Name’ stuck in his head for three weeks straight. It’s more subdued. Evident and present the same way his heartbeat is. It’s also off-key, and Sungkyu  _knows_  it’s off-key, but he can’t do anything about it. Doesn’t even know exactly  _what_  key it’s meant to be played in, or even what melody is being played.  
  
In fact, he doesn’t even know it’s playing until the mattress under him moves with Woohyun’s weight and suddenly it fits. He feels settled. The centre of gravity shifts with Woohyun’s body, it reaches the final cadence, Sungkyu tenses -- and then it never comes.  
  
Woohyun lets out an annoyed growl from next to him. “What?” he slurs.  
  
And there it is. Sungkyu inhales, feeling free of a burden he never knew he was carrying. Once it’s over, he looks at Woohyun sleeping next to him, and it’s just surreal. Completely surreal.  
  
“Nothing,” he replies.

**Author's Note:**

> in between infinite fandom being dead, not even knowing what i was writing past the 5k point, not wanting to write anymore at the 7k point, and crying when the fic just wouldn't end -- the only thing that got me through this was the realisation i had never written woogyu before despite it being my infinite otp. so... *strums guitar* this one's for you woogyu. this was basically written with "last romeo" on repeat the entire way through. and as usual, constructive criticism is welcome, especially since i was taking a HUGE leap in regards to writing woohyun here.


End file.
